


Living with Death

by tarasmoor



Category: Original Work
Genre: College, Domestic, Fish out of Water, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Students
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3116867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarasmoor/pseuds/tarasmoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freak has perhaps the weirdest roommate you could ever imagine: Death himself. And somehow, that is not so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moving In

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to be a romantic short story, mainly written to get myself out of a strong, awful case of writer's block. I'm hoping to publish one tiny chapter each day, though at least three a week. As it'll be a first draft, I apologize for any mistakes -- and hope you may enjoy this story anyway, the way it is, for now.

Every room was empty. The kitchen held no cups or plates or forks or spoons, no frying pans or pots. The bathroom was a clean slate, all white and cold tiles all around, a layer of dust settling on the metal bar where a curtain was supposed to go and keep the water inside while someone was taking a shower. The bedrooms had beds but nothing else, no nightstands or even closets to store away your clothes. 

Freak set down his bag on the ochre hardwood floor and plopped down right beside it. This would be his home for the next three years. And there were two bedrooms, so the authorities of the Highlane University had not listened to his pleas for a single apartment. He put his face in his hand and shook his still-damp hair until he could feel drops of water seep through the Nicki of his hoodie. At least he’d been the first to arrive. The first to pick his room. Both looked exactly the same, both windows showed only the campus which was as empty as the small flat. It had just started raining. Wasn’t he lucky that he’d gotten here in time?

He fell back, arms crossed to cushion his head as he dropped himself. What kind of guy would he be living with? Hopefully not someone who did drugs. He’d had that pleasure before, with his brother. The stink of “hey it’s just weed” still clung to some of his shirts and jeans. A new beginning without his younger brother and the kids from school. A new life in a cold empty space he’d have to share with who-knew-who. He closed his eyes and wished himself elsewhere. The Bahamas or the first plane of Hell.

Then the door rattled and the lock clicked and he was wide awake and back on the wooden floor. Damn it. He’d expected a few more minutes of peace, or maybe even a full day. His new roommate had arrived — and Freak’s jaw dropped when he swirled himself around to take a look.

The guy was tall, almost hitting the doorframe; he had to bend to get through the door without knocking himself unconscious. His skin was more of a shock: perfect white. Not Caucasian white, not a skin tone Freak had ever seen before. Just complete white, like the tiles in the bathroom and kitchen. Long, slim fingers extended and Freak shook the stranger’s hand before he could fully form the thought that these hands looked like spiders. He felt muscles and tendons move against his own hand.

“I’m D. Nice to meet you, groundsitter.”

Freak blinked and shut his mouth, teeth clanking into each other. Groundsitter. He’d been called a lot of things in his young life, a lot of insults, but … was that even an insult? The guy’s, D’s smile was nice and open and, disturbingly, his teeth seemed even whiter than the rest of him. The black-in-black outfit didn’t help the impression of a ghost. “Uh. Freak. Frank,” he corrected himself, heat creeping up his neck faster than he managed to get up. “I’m Frank.”

“Frank the Freak, I am D the Reaper.”

“Uhh.” Freak raised an eyebrow. If anything, D’s smile had grown wider. He couldn’t really judge someone for being a, what, goth? Not when his own nickname, a slight from kindergarten that had carried over, was that ingrained that he called himself by it, too. “Okay. I’m not judging.”

D tilted his head, smile faltering. “Huh? No. That’s their job.”

Something in the way D had said that made Freak wonder if he was talking about someone specific, not just bullies. So … final. He shrugged and took one step aside to let D take a look at their new, empty home. “I didn’t bring any furniture. What about you?”

“I don’t have furniture.” D loosened his grip on the black suitcase he’d dragged inside behind himself and rearranged his turtleneck. “Oh. No blankets. Won’t you be cold?”

“Won’t you?”

D laughed and it sounded like bells. Not sweet Christmas bells, more like church bells on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Freak pushed his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie and followed D, shuffling his feet, through the entire flat. He’d seen all of that before and eeriely, D’s comments were more of the same for each room.

The kitchen: “Won’t you be hungry?” The bathroom: “Won’t you be wet?” And each time he seemed amused by the notion that any of that would be the same for him as well. When they were done and back in the hallway with their bag and suitcase, Freak felt both lighter and heavier than before. He’d have to live with a real freak for three years, unless that freak decided that studying whatever he was studying wasn’t as cool as he thought.

Freak already thought so, but his parents had sent him off anyway and hey, he didn’t have to deal with his family anymore. They paid for all of this. He had no real reason to complain, right?

“We should buy a few things before the shops close.”

Freak needed a moment to process that D had just said something so very ordinary that he didn’t answer immediately, just picked up his bag with both hands and stared straight at D’s face. “Oh. I have a blanket, actually. So I was thinking tomorrow?” And alone.

“Is it big enough for two?”

“The blanket?” He furrowed a brow. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Then we will share it tonight and go shopping tomorrow. How exciting!” And D’s smile was back, brighter than a halogen bulb.

“What.” The pitch of his voice went out of control. Freak hunched his shoulders, hoping that his hoodie would be loose and big enough to hide his blush. “We don’t know each other!”

That ghost hand reached for him again, pointy fingertips stroking his cheek. He did his best not to shrink away or try to melt into the wall (no pictures, no dirt either, nothing). The touch was light and lasted. His tongue wouldn’t uncurl for a long time. Waiting in silence didn’t do the trick. D kept petting his cheek, softly cupping it, thumb stroking back and forth. So, so soft, despite the many edges of bones sticking out under D’s skin.

“We’ll get to know each other. My first pajama party.”

Freak lacked the air in his lungs to tell D that two young men sleeping in the same bed wasn’t a pajama party. He nodded.


	2. Pajama Party

The blanket turned out more than wide enough for the both of them. It hung over the edges of the bed at first, before D had decided to wrap them into a burrito of body heat. After a few minutes, Freak had been sure he’d die of a heat stroke before he could die of embarrassment. D’s body was pressed up against his, elbows bent against his chest because the space beneath the burrito blanket was so narrow.

He heaved a sigh of relief when D lifted his arms and crossed them behind his head, opening up more room to stretch out. Freak didn’t actually dare to do that, but getting his arm out of the uncomfortable position was good enough for him. D’s head tipped back and Freak slid an inch lower, against D’s chest.

Taking in a sharp breath, he pushed back against the confinement he found himself in. “Stop moving.”

“I apologize. I forgot you tend to react to these things.”

“… these things.” Freak glanced up, brows furrowed in a deep frown. “Like getting suffocated?”

D’s laughter was sudden and dark, his eyes glinting as he looked down. “Oh no, that I can judge quite perfectly.”

The tone made Freak shiver for one reason, the words for an entirely different one. That sounded … suspicious, to say the least. He pursed his lips and attempted to turn around. Not smushing his face into another guy’s chest, but instead poking him with his ass was a wee bit less awkward. Especially with said guy’s gallow humor making his skin tingle.

Until D snuggled up to him, crotch cupping the curve of his ass. Freak gulped down a squeak and closed his eyes. “What the hell man, personal space.”

“You’re not afraid.” It was a statement, his voice even. “You’re gay.”

Freak blinked at the empty white wall. “That doesn’t make sense,” he croaked and pulled the blanket up until it covered his mouth and nose. Too hot. Whatever.

“I’ll have to learn that,” D said, but so quietly Freak wasn’t sure if D hadn’t just talked to himself.

Swallowing hard, Freak replied anyway. “Yeah, definitely. How … how’d you know?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Oh. Okay.” Was it that obvious? Would others be able to spot him that easily as well? This was a big town, there were gay bars. He wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb again. He’d sworn himself he wouldn’t let that happen, for whatever reason. And there were so many: He was gay, he wasn’t the most muscular, nor the most lean guy. He was awful at any sports he’d ever tried except badminton, but he could knit better than his mother, and he always cheered for the wrong star.

D’s slender fingers ghosted over his neck, down his nape and up the shell of his ear. “Breathe, or you will suffocate after all.”

Freak inhaled. Exhaled. Closed his eyes. The pale world was replaced by blackness. “Personal space.” Though he didn’t really mind. It was weird. D was weird. Like he was just an extension of himself in some way, just another limb that had recently grown. Weird, but natural.

Which was even weirder.

“Good. I can’t give you the kiss of life.” The words hung in the air like a dark satin veil, not letting any light in.

Freak shivered and pulled his shoulders up. He wanted to make himself smaller. Ridiculous. In comparison to D, he already felt tiny and he wasn’t totally inhumanly tall. Just, really tall. “You should check out one of the First Aid courses. Think they’re free for students.”

“I’ll think about it.” D shifted, draping his arms over Freak’s waist.

No one had ever cuddled with him. Well, no other boy. What he’d imagined it to be like wasn’t a lot like this and then at the same time very much like it. Warm, making his stomach and heart flutter. But then he also felt like he were just embracing himself. So very ordinary, like rubbing his arms in the winter when he was cold.

“Don’t you talk about boys during pajama parties?”

“Yeah, maybe girls do.” He’d never been invited to spend a night at someone else’s place. His parents had arranged a few sleepovers for him, but he’d always ended up in a corner of the room reading. Or having his face meet the toilet water. He cringed, instinctively leaning into D’s body. Idiotic thing to do, really, except he couldn’t stop himself.

From the moment D had stepped through the door, that sense of security just wouldn’t go away. It should have soothed his nerves, and it did in a way, and wrecked them in another.

“Tell me about yourself.” D nudged him, a finger tapping his stomach.

He was boring and he wanted to say as much … but being boring, he might just lull D into a deep sleep. Freak cleared his throat and wondered where to begin. What was the most boring fact about himself? D already knew that he was gay and obviously didn’t mind. Perhaps he’d find everything mind-numbingly boring, because he found Freak an easy read.

“I’m twenty-one, my little brother smokes weed and I still haven’t lost all of my milk teeth.” Freak inhaled, ready to go on. D’s hand, stroking his belly, stopped him dead in his tracks and tripped up the story he’d laid out. Tongue dry and twitching, Freak held his breath.

Something clicked. D’s teeth? “That is why I chose you.”

“You’re a creep, you know that?” A yank on his shirt pulled him over, his damp forehead brushing D’s chin. Scratchy, he thought, but found no stubble when he looked up. He twisted in the tangle of sheets, heart pounding against his skull. “Chose me for what?”

D blinked. “To be my friend for a year.”

“A year. What. What!?”

“It’s very important that you do not lose your last milk tooth during this year, do you understand?”

“Not exactly something I can control.” Finally the blanket loosened around his ankles and he managed to slip out from underneath the little Sahara. “And maybe you should go buy that book that tells you how to make friends and stuff.”

Freak had read it, without any success. He was pretty sure it never said to sleep in the same bed with a lunatic, though. He’d have remembered that part for sure. D did kind of look like a psycho … but weren’t they supposed to be charming? Trying to melt into the cool wall, he scowled at D. The silence was even more uncomfortable than the limited room between them had been before.

“Will you go to the library with me tomorrow?” D finally tilted his head, smiling. Were his eyes really all black, or was it the darkness surrounding them — Freak couldn’t tell. “Of course, first we’ll have to find out what’s wrong with all these empty rooms.”

“Yeah, if you let me sleep now.”

“I promise I won’t get into a fight with the Tooth Fairy. She’s a very violent little lady.”

When D turned around, Freak was still staring. Eyes wide, mouth agape; the latter he closed first. He knew violent little ladies and did not want them in his mouth.


End file.
